


The World is a Book

by buffyaddict13



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fix-It, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyaddict13/pseuds/buffyaddict13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna Noble meets a strange man on her honeymoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World is a Book

**Author's Note:**

> I've been daydreaming about a scene like this ever since the end of series 5...which is when this was written. Donna is kind of tricky for me, I hope I've captured a small measure of her awesome.

"Oh. My.  _God._ "   
  
Donna Temple-Noble stares at the vista before her: endless pink and gold sky above teal ocean. The fragrant blossoms of unfamiliar flowers skim across the pool. The brochures were right. Waikoloa Beach is bloody fantastic. Spec _tac_ ular. Why had she wasted so much time in Chiswick when she could have been in Hawaii instead?  
  
It's still early, the sun hasn't cleared the horizon. The beach is deserted, the pool empty except for her. She has her pick of lounge chairs. Half the pool area is in shade, the other half is in sunlight. Donna scopes out a reclining deck chair in the optimal position. She lowers herself onto the white slats, her head and torso in the shade, legs in the sun. She waggles her toes contentedly.  
  
A hotel employee brings out a large, lush bowl of fruit and places it on a table within reach. He leaves a tumbler of water and a champagne glass of orange juice.  
  
"Thank you," Donna calls after the retreating figure. "Cheers."  
  
She sips her orange juice. What a beautiful morning. Beautiful day. Beautiful life, really. Donna never thought she'd find love, but she has Shaun. She never thought she'd be able to quit temping, but here they are, traveling the world like a couple of celebrities. It's been four months since the wedding and they're  _still_  on their flipping honeymoon! Donna had complained about that lotto ticket being a cheap gift. How wrong she'd been.  
  
Donna watches pale streaks of blue spread across the sky while she finishes her orange juice. The sun is up by the time a skinny bloke wanders out onto the pool deck, hands jammed in his pockets. At first she thinks he's another hotel employee come to bring her a pillow or bucket of caviar or a gold tennis racket, but no. He's just shuffling about, muttering to himself. And wouldn't you know, he ends up right at the foot of her chair.  
  
"Oi," she says loudly. "Do you mind getting out of my sun?"  
  
The man snorts, his back to her. "What? So you own the sun? I imagine  _that_  Bill of Sale was--" he turns and stops talking. In fact, he stops altogether. His face goes sickly pale. He stumbles sideways, reaches blindly for the ornate patio railing, sags against it.  
  
Donna sits up, the retort she'd been planning forgotten. Bloody hell, he looks absolutely frightful. She glances at her mobile beside the fruit bowl. Should she call Shaun? Run into the lobby for help?  
  
"Mister, are you all right?"  
  
The man releases the railing and spins in a circle, glancing wildly about. "What?" he demands. He looks at Donna, almost terrified. "What?" He looks up at the sky. " _What_ ?" The man suddenly bows his head, takes a shuddering breath. He looks up to meet her gaze, tries to smile. It's a ghastly look, but then he shakes his head back and forth like a dog throwing off water. All at once his expression is calm, his smile honest.  
  
Donna squints curiously at the man standing in the sunlight. He looks like a 12 year-old whose had a laugh playing dress up in his great-grandad's closet. He's wearing a pair of too-short trousers, black boots, a checkered threadbare jacket,  _braces_ , and, even worse, a bow tie. Where'd he get his fashion sense? 1890? The library stacks? Mars?   
  
She tries again. "Excuse me, are you all right?"   
  
He nods fervently. "Me? Yeah. I'm good. Great." The smile waivers once, but stays put. "Fantastic, even. Just a bit of sun stroke, that. All done. Good as new."  
  
She purses her lips. "Exactly what kind of weather are you dressed for, then?"  
  
"The kind of weather that isn't here.  _Well_ , I'm dressed for weather here, just not the weather we're having  _right now_ ."  
  
Donna frowns. "What does that mean? You're dressed for...future weather?"  
  
The man laughs, then stops abruptly. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. "Future weather," he says weakly. "Now that's just ridiculous."  
  
Donna watches him patiently. Surely this weird stick of a man will start making sense  _eventually_ .  
  
"I can dress however I like," he says. "I'm not going swimming. Had enough of that in the library, thanks. I'm just sort of...loitering." He sniffs loudly. "I'm the Doc--uh, a do-gooder." He bobs his head a bit manically. "Yup, that's me. Doing good deeds. Helping the helpless. Oh wait, that's an emo vampire, sorry. I'm a sensitive soul though I seem thick-skinned..." he trails off, scowls. "Blimey, that's the second time I've quoted  _The Lion King_ . I don't even particularly like that movie, the  _Hakuna Matata_  bit always gets stuck in my head. Good tune, though. And do-gooder, that's me. A regular goody two shoes. Adam Ant said so." He glances down at his feet. " _Well_ , a goody two boots, really." He stares at her, breathing heavily. "That's me."  
  
Donna regards the man dubiously. He's clearly crackers, but seems harmless enough. He's a bit funny looking though, all chin, nose and fringe.  
  
"What's your name?" she finally asks.  
  
He's looking down at his boots again, possibly thinking about good deeds.   
  
He looks up, blinks, grins. "Jamie," he says quickly. "Jamie McCrimmon." He rocks back on his heels, clasps his hands behind his back. "And yours?"  
  
"Donna Noble," she says, then laughs. Five months, and she still forgets her new--and improved--name. What an idiot. "Donna Temple-Noble," she amends. "So...are you on vacation, Mr. Jamie McCrimmon? Or you just like to stand around posh pools chatting up women and blocking UV rays? Neither of which qualifies as a good deed, if you ask me."  
  
Jamie tuts. "Now now, I'm helping you avoid skin cancer. If that's not a good deed I don't know what is." He grins cheekily. "Nah. I'm here because my friends got married." He exhales air loudly through his lips, scratches his head. "And I'm sort of... the designated driver, basically." He checks his watch. "And they haven't come down yet." Now he sounds a bit peeved. "Blimey," he huffs, "what in the world are they doing up there?"  
  
Donna works hard to hide a smile, almost succeeds. "Jamie, would they be on their honeymoon by any chance?"  
  
"Yup." Jamie's eyebrows jump toward his hairline. "And don't tell me you're still on _your_  honeymoon!" He clears his throat. Opens, closes mouth. Blinks. He points at her and nearly shouts, "Because I have no idea if you're even married! Not a clue, no sir!"  
  
Donna can't help thinking if this were any other saddo she'd have punched him in the face by now. Or, at the very least, alerted hotel security to hustle him out the nearest exit. But there's something about Jamie that puts her at ease. The only other people who've ever made her feel this--this  _safe_  are Shaun and her granddad. Besides, serial killers don't wear bow-ties, do they?  
  
"Oh I'm on my honeymoon all right," she tells him. "Me and Shaun been traveling for months. First Portugal, then New York, and now Hawaii." Donna sighs, content. She adjusts the purple sarong over her swim costume. "And you know, as strange as it is chatting with the likes of you, I really don't think life could get any better."  
  
Jamie smiles, pleased. "I am extremely glad to hear that."   
  
Donna's mobile rings and she picks it up. She glances at the screen, glares, sets it back down.  
  
"Uh-oh." Jamie waggles his eyebrows. "I sincerely hope that's not Mister Temple-Noble."  
  
"Oh God no," Donna says. "That's just Nerys. She's kind of my friend." Donna considers the term. "If 'friend' is a person you can barely stand." She rolls her eyes. "I dunno. She just seems a little...shallow. Granted, I'm a bit kiddie pool myself, but she's a downright puddle. It never used to bother me so much though." Donna stares into space, collects herself. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this," she says, embarrassed.  
  
Jamie pulls at his prolific chin. "It's because I've got one of those faces." His eyes go wide. "You know, one of those faces that don't remind you of anyone. Completely forgettable, that's me." He grimaces, sighs, and moves away from the pool.  
  
"Oi!" Donna calls after him. "Don't go running off. Have a seat. You want to do a good deed? Keep me from getting bored." Donna hadn't planned to stop the strange man leaving, but it's not the first time her mouth has got ahead of her brain. She suspects it won't be the last.  
  
Mr. McCrimmon stops, turns slowly. "Or sunburned?"   
  
Donna nods. "Or sunburned." She jerks a thumb toward the nearest deck chair. "Park it."  
  
Jamie parks.  
  
They look at each other. They both seem to be smiling stupidly for no reason.  
  
Donna points to the fruit bowl. "Want an apple?"  
  
Jamie pulls a disgusted face. "Bleah. Apples are rubbish. Unless they're smiling. Now bananas, on the other hand, are brilliant. Especially at parties." He inspects the bowl. "Not a fan of pineapple. Strawberries are good, crystallaberries are better. Hmmm, any grapes in there? Or Jammie Dodgers?" He peers hopefully behind a large piece of watermelon.  
  
Donna glares at him. "It's a fruit bowl," she says evenly. "Since when are biscuits fruit?"  
  
"Plum jam," Jamie tells her smugly. "And unless I'm wrong--and I'm never wrong--plums are fruit. Oh  _yes_ ," he says, raising a fist in triumph.   
  
Donna lifts an eyebrow and folds her arms. She says nothing, which, for Donna, is a fairly difficult endeavor.  
  
Jamie huffs in annoyance and crosses his legs like a testy schoolmistress. "Fine. Since never. But maybe, now that I think about it, that's the main problem with this planet. Right after xenophobia, lack of bees, and a seemingly endless supply of barmy dictator types, I mean." He sniffs again and tilts his head, giving Donna an appraising look. "So tell me Donna, why do you and Mr. Temple-Noble keep traveling?" His smile is infectious. "Like a bit of adventure do you?"  
  
Donna's still trying to remember what 'xenophobia' means when she realizes Jamie's asked her a question. Oh, traveling. Right. She struggles to find the right words. She's never been much of a word smith, but for some reason, it's imperative she make Jamie understand why traveling is so important. So necessary, even.  
  
She runs a manicured fingernail idly along the edge of the bowl while she speaks. "There's nothing better than seeing the world, Jamie. Always thought I was missing out on stuff, you know? All the big things: Sycorax, Daleks, that time the Thames went dry. It... it felt like I kept having hang overs or scuba diving or falling into weird comas at exactly the wrong time."  
  
"You're right. There's hardly ever a good time for a coma," Jamie muses.  
  
Donna ignores him. "But I've got a clean bill of health, don't have to work for the foreseeable future, and I feel like I'm  _finally_  living. I'm not missing out anymore, you know?" She smiles, closes her eyes. She leans her head against the back of the chair and listens to the waves, the sound of distant birds calling to one another. Her smile fades. She opens her eyes, blinks back sudden tears. "I just hope I don't lose everything again."   
  
"Again?" Jamie leans toward her, concern on his angular face. "What do you mean?"  
  
Donna shrugs. She laughs, self conscious, and wipes at her eyes. "This sounds silly, but sometimes I have the weirdest dreams. I dream that I'm really happy, you know? Even happier than I am now, which I don't think is even possible. Only...I lose everything. And I can't remember what I've lost. I just wake up with this feeling. This...this little hollow space inside me." A slow smile spreads across her face. "Only...it looks like that space is being rented out for a few months." She gives Jamie an exaggerated wink.  
  
He stares at her, mouth agape. "No."  
  
She nods. "Yes."  
  
He jumps to his feet so quickly the chair skitters sideways. " _No!_ "  
  
Donna gets to her own feet, beaming. " _Yes!_ "  
  
"You're pregnant?" Jamie asks, eyes big as the moon.  
  
Donna throws her hands in the air, shrieking with excitement. "Yes!" She points to her stomach, laughing. "This  _right here_ ? That's three months!"  
  
"Blimey," Jamie says in wonder. "That is brilliant. That--that's amazing. That's _perfect_ , is what that is" He runs his hands through his hair until it sticks up in all directions. "Donna Noble, you are going to make a fantastic mother. You're going to be the best mum in the universe." He swallows, eyes bright. He regards her fondly. "In the universe," he repeats quietly.  
  
Donna blushes. She ducks her head, embarrassed and happy all at once. "Thanks."  
  
Jamie begins pacing. He waves his hands while he talks, as if he's conducting a silent orchestra. "Donna Temple-Noble, I want you to know you make this world a better place. You make  _every_  world a better place. I'm just a daft old man, but I know things, Donna." He taps the side of his head. "I'm an expert at knowing things, and I know  _this_ ." He salutes her. "Congratulations, mate."  
  
Donna wipes her eyes again. She chuckles. This Jamie McCrimmon might be the oddest duck she's ever met, but he's bloody entertaining. Only now he's gone too far. Donna make the world a better place?  _As if_ . "I think you have me confused with someone else," she says hesitantly. "I'm just a temp. Well, not anymore, but--"  
  
Jamie stops pacing. He turns to her, his expression almost angry. " _Hush._  Fingers on lips." He demonstrates, placing his index finger against his frowning lips. He stares at her expectantly.  
  
Donna rolls her eyes but follows suit.  
  
"You're not 'just' anything," Jamie tells her sternly. "Don't  _ever_  let anyone tell you otherwise. Not your neighbor, not your mum, not the Queen, not even yourself."  
  
Donna feels like crying, but she doesn't know why. She tries to laugh, coughs instead. "Well," she says, "you're a bit dramatic aren't you?"   
  
Mr. McCrimmon waves a hand dismissively. "I prefer the term interesting. Or exciting." He clicks his fingers. "Ooh, charming's good too."  
  
"Doctor!"  
  
They both turn to see a young couple standing on the balcony, a tousle-haired young man and pretty girl with long ginger hair. Donna studies the girl, a bit wistful. Had she ever been that young? The couple waves furiously at Jamie.  
  
Donna looks at Mr. McCrimmon quizzically. "You're a doctor?"  
  
Jamie rubs his nose. His gaze slides away from Donna's face, snaps back. "Oh. Um. _Well_ ...yes. That's me. Do-gooder, forgettable face, doctor. A doctor, not  _the_  doctor, of course. Just plain ol' Doctor Jamie McCrimmon," he says through clenched teeth. He shoots the couple a manic look and rummages in his pockets. He pulls out a box with a smiling yellow sponge and pink starfish emblazoned across the front. He holds it out to Donna. "Care for a plaster?"  
  
Donna purses her lips.  
  
Jamie returns the box to his pocket.  
  
"Oh yeah, right," the ginger-haired girl says, a little doubtfully, in Donna's opinion. "Heya Jamie."  
  
Jamie flings an arm toward the couple. "These, uh, are the friends I mentioned earlier. My drivees, you could say. Amy and Rory Pond." Amy gives Donna a friendly smile. Rory opens his mouth, shrugs, closes it again. He lifts a hand and waves awkwardly.  
  
Donna wiggles her fingers back at him. That Rory is a bit nice looking. Just because she's made her purchase doesn't mean she can't appreciate the merchandise on display.  
  
"It's a pleasure," Donna tells the Ponds. "Jamie says you're on your honeymoon." She grins, points at herself. "Me too!"  
  
Amy's smile grows wider. "Congratulations!"  
  
Donna nods. "Same to you."  
  
Amy leans against Rory's shoulder, he slides an arm around her waist. "It's so beautiful here," she says, lifting her face to the morning breeze.  
  
"It's the most beautiful place I've ever been," Donna agrees. Then she elbows Jamie and mutters, "Until I get to the next destination on the list."  
  
Jamie chuckles.  
  
"Come on, Doctor," Amy calls, a trace of petulance creeping into her voice. "You promised we could go to...that place."  
  
"During that thing," Rory adds cryptically.  
  
"Oh, of  _course_ ," Donna smirks. "That place during the thing. Saw the brochure for that one.  _Very_  popular."  
  
She and Jamie share a laugh.  
  
From the corner of her she can see Rory and Amy share an eye roll.  
  
" _Well_ ," Doctor McCrimmon hedges, obviously reluctant to go.  
  
"Hurry  _up_ , Jamie," Amy shouts. Her smile is officially gone, a scowl fixed firmly in its place.  
  
"Don't worry about abandoning me," Donna tells Jamie cheerfully. "I should go and wake up Mr. Lazy Bones anyway."  
  
Jamie stares at her, stricken. "Abandoning...you," he echoes in a near whisper.  
  
"Bloody hell," Donna says, poking Jamie in the shoulder. "I was just teasing, you weirdo. Calm down, will you? You look like you're about to have a heart attack."  
  
"What?" Jamie nearly squeaks. "No, I'm fine." He thumps his chest, inhales heartily. "No heart attacks here. I'd need two anyway. Pretty unlikely. Unless there's a Carrionite about. Long story," he babbles.   
  
Donna waits for Doctor McCrimmon to wind down. He's a bit like a child's toy. You just have to wait for his batteries to run low. How he manges to function as a doctor is beyond her.   
  
He takes a deep breath, reigns himself in. "Er, it was nice meeting you," Jamie says, looking happy and sad at the same time. "So  _very_  nice."  
  
"You too."  
  
She means it. Most people are a bit waste of space. There are too many pervs and numpties running about. But this bloke with the floppy hair and silly bow-tie is genuinely...well,  _genuine_ . She's only known him a few minutes and she already trusts him. She has no idea why, but she does. Doctor McCrimmon has such kind eyes. Such old eyes, like he's seen the whole world twice over. Plus, he said she was brilliant, so he  _obviously_  knows what he's talking about.  
  
She offers him her hand.  
  
Jamie hesitates, but finally takes it gently, as if afraid she'll break. Bloody hell, she's pregnant, not made of glass.  
  
"Have a wonderful life," he says.  
  
Donna blinks. It's a funny thing to say. Isn't that the name of some old American movie?  
  
"Um....I'll try," she says lamely.  
  
Jamie shakes his head. "No. You have to promise me. Then go out and do it. Travel. Have adventures. Be kind. Be brave. Show Donna Jr. the world. Buy a telescope and show her the stars."  
  
Donna Jr. has a nice ring to it. Donna nods. "I promise," she says solemnly. What can it hurt?  
  
He lets go of her hand.  
  
"Ta," she says. "You have a wonderful life too."  
  
Jamie grins all the way up to his eyes. "Oh, I will, Donna. I  _will_ ."  
  
Donna heads toward the patio stairs when Doctor McCrimmon calls after her.   
  
"Oi! Best Mum! You forgot your mobile."  
  
Donna huffs, flustered. What an idiot. God, she'd have spent the whole day looking for the bloody thing.   
  
"Thank you, Doctor Do-Gooder."  
  
He beams. "Even better than Doolittle, that."  
  
She slaps at the sides of her sarong, annoyed. "Why the  _hell_  can't these things have--"  
  
"Pockets?" Jamie supplies, one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Pockets," Donna agrees emphatically, picking up the phone.  
  
"People are always going on about how love makes the world go round," Jamie tells her, "but that's a bit rubbish." He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "It's really pockets."   
  
Donna considers this. "Can't store a bag of half-eaten crisps in your heart, now can you? Be a bit messy."  
  
The doctor laughs. "Quite right."  
  
She pulls a silly face.  
  
He pulls a sillier one.   
  
Donna laughs. "Goodbye."  
  
"Wait," Jamie says. "Do you know what St. Augustine said? He said, the world is a book, and those who don't travel read only a page.'  Not too fond of mathematicians, though." He pauses, looks out at her from under his fringe. "Happy reading, Donna," he says, affection in his voice.  
  
"Happy reading, Doctor."  
  
And Donna walks away, thinking of libraries and landmarks. She only makes it half way to the lobby before stopping. Maybe she should invite Jamie McCrimmon and his friends out for breakfast. Or better yet, lunch. That way she'll have time to do her hair, wake up Shaun. But when she gets back to the pool, Jamie is gone. So are Amy and Rory.  
  
Donna sighs, frowns, thrusts out her lower lip. Oh well. So much for  _that_  idea. She doesn't know why she's so disappointed. It's not like she's known Doctor McCrimmon long enough to really miss him.  
  
Wait. There's something....different. There. An apple sits beside the fruit bowl, a smiley face carved into the shiny red skin. Instinctively, Donna knows Jamie left it for her. What a strange little whisp of a man.  
  
She takes the apple, tosses it in the air, catches it. Takes a bite.  
  
The apple is crisp: half tart, half sweet, all perfect.  
  
Donna's mobile rings again. She checks the screen. It reads  _Shaun_ . She grins. Just seeing his name still makes her feel like a wobbly adolescent.   
  
She flips her mobile open. "Hello, Husband."  
  
"Hiya Wife," Shaun says. "Where'd you go? I'm all lonely."  
  
"Settle," Donna warns. "I'm on my way." She punches the elevator button. "Hey," she asks him, "what you think about going to Italy? Seeing Mount Vesuvius? The ruins of Pompeii? I don't know why, but all of a sudden I really want to go. Just think of all that history and--and  _stuff_ , you know?"  
  
"There's only one place I want to go," Shaun tells her.  
  
Donna lifts an eyebrow. "And where would that be? You need to phone a friend?" she asks. "Make sure you get the answer right?"  
  
"Nah. The only place I want to be is next to you, babe. Italy, Ireland, England, they're all good as long as we're together."  
  
That, Donna has to admit, is a pretty good answer.  
  
She tosses the apple again. Catches it deftly.  
  
 _Brilliant._


End file.
